Insights on Faith and Grace
Healings. You know how we all crave a healing from time to time? When I came across Mark 5, I noticed how Jesus healed a demon-possessed man, heals a woman through faith, and then brings a little girl back to life all in one day. These interested me since my background is name it and claim it. Do all healings come through faith declarations? I found something different than what I’d been told.
I said:
As I read through Mark 5, one question kept surfacing. Why did Jesus heal the way He did? There are three very different people in this chapter. A demonized man who didn’t even know what was wrong with him. A woman who had faith and pressed through a crowd to reach Jesus. And a religious leader whose love for his dying daughter brought him to his knees. What drew Jesus into each of these situations? Because from what I could see, they were not all healed the same way. So what is the real difference Jesus is trying to teach us?
Claude said:
That’s exactly the right question. And it challenges something a lot of us have been taught. Because if you look closely at all three healings, what drew Jesus into each situation was completely different.
The demonized man had no faith at all. He didn’t even know what was wrong with him. And yet Jesus crossed the water specifically to reach him. So what was it that moved Jesus toward this man?
I said:
That’s what I want to know. Because something else caught my attention. When the man ran toward Jesus, was it really him responding? Or was it the demons inside him that recognized Jesus and fell down? Did the man even know what was happening to him? So what was it that moved Jesus toward someone who couldn’t even reach back? Was it mercy? Was it grace? And what’s the difference between the two?
Claude said:
Both actually. And they are different things.
Charis — grace. This is unmerited favor. A gift given freely with no regard for whether the receiver deserves it or even asked for it. It flows entirely from the character of the giver. The demonized man didn’t ask. Didn’t qualify. Didn’t reach. Jesus came anyway — crossed the water specifically, landed on that shore, and went straight to him.
Eleos — mercy. This is compassion toward someone in misery. Where grace focuses on the gift, mercy focuses on the condition of the person. That man was living in tombs, cutting himself out of his mind. Jesus saw the misery and moved toward it without waiting to be invited. Then gave him something he could never have earned.
And here’s what makes it even more striking — when the man ran toward Jesus, it was actually the demons inside him that recognized who Jesus was and fell down. Not really an act of the man’s own will at all. He contributed nothing except his need.
That’s both. Mercy and grace working together. And Jesus initiated all of it.
I said:
So Jesus was showing grace and mercy. Healing can come just from that? But something else in that story caught my attention. After the man was healed he begged to go with Jesus. But Jesus said no. Go and tell what you have received. What does that mean? Don’t follow me, go and tell? Why would Jesus say that?
Claude said:
That’s a striking moment. Every instinct that man had after his encounter with Jesus was to stay close. Which makes complete sense — he just got his life back. He didn’t want to let Jesus out of his sight. And Jesus said no. Go back. Go to the people who knew you when you were living in the tombs, cutting yourself, unchained and uncontrollable. Go there and tell what happened.
His testimony was his assignment.
And think about what that testimony was — he couldn’t say “I had faith and reached out.” He couldn’t say “I declared my healing.” He could only say Jesus came to where I was and did something I couldn’t do for myself. That’s the only story he had. Pure grace. Pure mercy. No formula, no faith on his part, just Jesus showing up uninvited and doing the impossible.
Not a formula. Not a method. A person who crosses water to reach someone who doesn’t even know they need rescuing.
That region — the Decapolis, Gentile territory — Jesus didn’t spend much time there. But that man did. Jesus left him behind as a witness in a place He Himself wasn’t going to stay. The one with no faith, no formula, no reaching — became the first missionary to the Gentiles in that area.
Grace really does work differently than we think it does.
I said:
Now for the woman with the issue of blood. When I got to her story I thought — here it is. This is the name it and claim it healing. She is healed by faith. But wait. Is she really naming and claiming? I don’t think she is. She has faith yes, but this feels like the end of a long healing journey more than a declaration. She tried everything the world had to offer. Doctors. Treatments. Twelve years of searching. And then she found the truth and ran after it. What she was doing wasn’t naming and claiming. She was pushing toward the truth. She didn’t say “in the name of Jesus I will be healed.” She said if only I could touch his garment. What is the difference?
Claude said:
She wasn’t declaring anything. She wasn’t commanding anything. She was reaching. There’s a desperation and a direction to what she did — twelve years of trying everything, and now she’s pressing through a crowd just to get close. That’s not a formula. That’s a woman who has run out of every other option and has fixed her eyes on the only thing left that might be true.
“If only I can touch his garment.”
That’s not a declaration. That’s barely even a prayer. It’s almost more like a hope whispered to herself as she pushes forward. And yet — that’s what Jesus responded to. He didn’t respond to perfect theology or the right words. He responded to her.
He stopped. In a crowd pressing against Him from every side, He felt her touch specifically. And He didn’t just let the healing happen quietly. He turned around and asked who touched Him. He drew her out. He made her tell her whole story publicly. And then He said something important — “Your faith has made you well.”
Not “my power healed you.” Not “you declared it correctly.” He pointed back to something in her.
But what was that faith? It wasn’t a confession formula. It was more like she believed He was real enough to reach for. That’s the faith He honored.
I said:
That’s something to explore. What is faith? A declaration? A hope? A focus? A courage to believe? A power from within? What is faith? What is the Greek word for faith?
Claude said:
The Greek word is pistis.
And it’s rich. It carries the idea of trust, conviction, confidence — but not just intellectual agreement. It’s a trust that acts. It has a relational quality to it — it’s the kind of confidence you have in a person, not in a formula.
The verb form is pisteuō — to believe, to trust, to commit yourself to someone.
So faith in the New Testament isn’t primarily about saying the right words. It’s about where you’ve placed your weight. Who you’re leaning on. What you’ve actually committed yourself to.
And look at that woman through that lens. She placed her full weight on one thing — if I can just get to Him. She committed her body, her courage, her last desperate effort toward a Person. That’s pistis. That’s the thing Jesus named when He said “your faith has made you well.”
She wasn’t declaring. She was leaning all the way in.
And here’s an interesting thread — the Hebrew equivalent is emunah, which shows up all through the Old Testament. It comes from the same root as amen. It has the sense of steadfastness, firmness, something you can lean your full weight on without it giving way.
So in both languages, faith isn’t a formula you speak. It’s a direction you move and a person you lean on.
I said:
So lets look at something that gives us a physical example of leaning toward. Maybe working out? What if I worked out and just did the movements of lifting weights on a machine. What if I actually did it, but wasn’t intent on doing it the way weight lifters do? In a gym setting a trainer teaches you to pay attention to the muscle you are working. To be intentional. To know how many reps. To pay attention to the complex muscle groups. To let the bar down with slow intention — not let it bang. They are both the same from an observer’s point of view, but they really are not. So maybe that’s the way it is with name it and claim it? What if the name it and claim it person looks like they have faith — but the ones who seek truth, seek the Creator, and listen to His voice are the ones who truly have faith?
Claude said:
That analogy holds up. Two people at the same machine. Same movements. Same reps from the outside. But one is just going through the motions and one is inside the movement — connected to it, intentional, feeling the muscle respond, paying attention to what’s actually happening. The trainer can tell the difference even if a casual observer can’t.
And God is not a casual observer.
He felt one specific touch in a crowd pressing against Him from every direction. Everyone else was making contact. She was the only one reaching. Name it and claim it has the form of faith — the declarations, the confidence, the speaking things into existence. But if the intention underneath is transactional — if it’s about getting the result rather than reaching for the Person — it might be the one who lets the bar bang.
The woman with the issue of blood had no formula. She had twelve years of failed attempts, a dwindling hope, and one focused direction. Him. That’s it. She wasn’t performing faith. She was doing it.
Pistis is a muscle being worked with full intention rather than a movement being mimicked.
I said:
Now for Jairus. He was a religious leader. I would put him in the setting of someone who knows the Bible well. One who has the facts. Jairus was just like that — he knew the scriptures. But maybe his love for his daughter made him desperate. What if this man Jesus really is a healer? What if He really can heal my daughter? If it were me I would say — I will search the scriptures later, but my daughter needs healing now. If this is the Messiah I will find out through scripture, but for now Jesus heal my loved one. It’s kind of like a desperate call for healing. Was that enough?
Claude said:
And there’s something really human and really honest in that.
He knew enough to come. His theology may have been uncertain — he was a synagogue ruler, steeped in the law, probably had complicated feelings about who Jesus was, probably had colleagues already suspicious of this teacher from Nazareth. And yet here he is, face down at Jesus’ feet.
Love overrode his theology.
Or maybe better — love activated whatever faith he had. He didn’t come with a fully formed confession. He came with a dying daughter and just enough belief to try. If there’s any chance this is real, I have to find out right now.
And then the worst thing happens. Someone comes from his house and says don’t bother the teacher anymore. She’s gone.
That’s the moment everything in him must have collapsed.
And Jesus — immediately, the text says — turned to him and said: “Don’t be afraid. Only believe.”
Not a theology lesson. Not a correction. Just those two things pressed into the hands of a father whose hope just died. And that word only is doing a lot of work. Set everything else down. The report you just heard, the fear rising in your chest, the uncertainty about who I am. Just hold onto this one thing.
Not doctrine. Not certainty. Just a desperate grip on the possibility that Jesus was who He seemed to be. And Jesus honored that too.
I said:
But Jairus’s healing ended differently than the demonized man’s. Jesus tells Jairus don’t tell anyone? What? Why? How am I going to keep this a secret? My daughter was dead. The mourners were already there. The neighbors knew. How do you keep that quiet? And was Jesus trying to tell him something else? Go look up the scripture about Me? Was Jesus giving him something to think about — something to seek?
Claude said:
That’s worth sitting with. Because you’re right — how do you keep that secret? The mourners were already there, already weeping, already laughing at Jesus when He said she was sleeping. The whole household knew. The neighbors knew. This wasn’t something Jairus could quietly file away.
So why did Jesus say don’t tell anyone?
Your instinct is worth following — go search the scripture about Me. Because Jairus was a man of the scroll. That was his world. And maybe Jesus was saying — you just witnessed something. Now go find out what it means. Go look at what was written. Let what you just saw drive you into the Word instead of into the crowd.
The demonized man was sent out to tell — because that region needed a witness and he was the only one who could carry that story there. His testimony was the scripture for those people at that moment.
But Jairus already had the scripture. He just needed to see it with new eyes.
Three healings. Three different instructions afterward.
The demonized man — go tell.
The woman with the issue of blood — Jesus drew her out publicly, made her tell her story openly.
Jairus — tell no one.
Same Jesus. Same power. Three completely different responses to three completely different people. He didn’t have a method. He had a relationship with each person He was dealing with.
I said:
From what I can tell this all happened in one day. I don’t know if that is significant. But He healed in three different scenarios. Three different situations, people, belief systems — and He healed them all. Maybe it’s for us to see which one we are? He healed through faith. He healed through mercy and grace. And the religious leader — the one who knew the law, who studied, who memorized, who was called to lead through the practice of Jewish law. In a way Jesus was showing how He pursues all?
Claude said:
That’s it. That’s the thesis.
Jesus pursues all.
Not just the faithful. Not just the desperate. Not just the learned. All three in one day — and maybe that’s exactly why Mark put them together. Not just as a collection of miracle stories but as a portrait of how wide the reach of Jesus actually is.
He crosses water to get to the one who can’t reach back. He stops mid-crowd for the one who reaches with everything she has left. He walks to the house of the one who knows the law but needs to see it alive.
And not one of them received Him the same way. Not one of them had the same entry point. And He didn’t require them to. He met each one inside their own story, their own condition, their own framework.
The demonized man — grace and mercy. Jesus initiated. The man contributed nothing except his need.
The woman with the issue of blood — pistis. A faith that wasn’t a formula but a direction. Twelve years of searching, and she finally found what was true and pressed toward it with everything she had.
Jairus — the man of the Word, brought to the edge of what the Word alone could hold, and invited to believe beyond it. Don’t be afraid. Only believe. And then — go find Me in the scripture you already know.
Three entry points. One Healer.
Which makes me wonder — which one are you?
Am I the one who doesn’t even know I need rescuing?
Am I the one who has tried everything else and is finally pressing toward truth?
Am I the one who has all the knowledge but is being asked to move from information into belief?
Because Jesus is apparently not waiting for us to figure out the right category before He shows up.
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Disclaimer
This blog captures my own journey of seeking God through Scripture. I share what I’m learning, but my real goal is to inspire you to open your Bible and discover truth for yourself. The Holy Spirit is your teacher. Let Him show you what you need to see.
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